


The Simple Fact is that it is Never Simple

by killajokejosie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Dom John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Minor Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sex, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock loves Rosie, Some spoilers to that episode, Stupidity, Top John Watson, Was written prior but I changed some things, Wine, just a little, maybe others., post season 4 episode 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9258935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killajokejosie/pseuds/killajokejosie
Summary: "You can run your hands over your face all that you want, it isn't going to change things,""You say that, but give me absolutely no reason to believe you. Things change all of the time, with or without intervention...""Shut up, shut your mouth and kiss me,"He put his hand up. "I do not understand how I can do both at the same time,"John pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Oh dear god..."





	1. You Complete Me

**Author's Note:**

> Let the record show that this is supposed to take place a decent amount of time after Mary's unfortunate death.

John was trying to enjoy his day off. It was his day off, after all. He was trying to enjoy the fact that the Molly was watching Rosie for the majority of the afternoon. Sometimes one needed a break, obviously. Even more still he was trying to enjoy a simple day, lying in bed with Sherlock. Apparently that was too much.

It was more than a little horrible to not even be getting a reaction from the naked man who he had his hands on. His efforts were futile. As far as he could tell, anyways. 

"Why did you stop?" Asked the gorgeous brunette man that he had been in love with for years. He had pushed himself up onto both elbows, glaring right at John as if he had just committed a sin.

John licked his lips, eyes more interested in Sherlock's body, as well as his lips. As a whole the man was a pretty distracting person. He had cashed in on some sort of genetic jackpot, being strangely and uniquely beautiful with an incredible mind to match. His personality might not have been perfect, but John had known him for so long that it was somehow a little bit endearing. 

He snapped out of it, remembering that he had just been spoken to. "I'm sorry, you were too busy with your mobile, and you weren't reacting, I had assumed that you had simply lost interest, so I stopped. My jaw was getting a bit tired as it was."

"On the contrary, I was actually enjoying it. You have a talented mouth."

"Oh,"

"Might I suggest the addition of fingers?"

"Fingers?"

"Fingers, yes. I very much enjoy that part. I happen to like the part that comes afterwards even more."

"Well then, I do not think that I need any additional convincing. Lay back down."

"Actually," Sherlock grabbed a smaller pillow from those at the head of the bed. He rolled himself over onto his back, pillow beneath him, providing just enough support. "I rather prefer a challenge for you. You can do whatever you please to me for the next twenty minutes, but you absolutely cannot make contact with..." He gestured at his fully erect cock rather than actually referring to it in words. 

"Am I supposed to get you off, or just close?"

"That is for you decide, although it would be a waste for me to get off without you."

"So, it isn't really for me to decide, then, is it?"

Sherlock shrugged, taking the phone back into his hands, scrolling rather quickly at whatever he was looking at. 

"Really?" John blurted.

"What?"

"You can't put that damn thing down for five minutes?"

Sherlock let the device rest against his chest, light from the screen no longer illuminating his face. "Is it bothering you?"

John raised his eyebrows. "Yes! Yes it is bothering me! Can you tell!"

"You shouldn't be so loud, John, you might wake up Rosie, or Mrs. Hudson." 

John shrugged it off, certainly Sherlock was aware that Molly hadn't brought Rosie back yet. He grabbed the stupid mobile phone out of Sherlock's hands, tossing it across the room. Thankfully, for Sherlock, it landed softly, probably only getting scuffed on the edges a little. Regardless of how much attention he might have been getting prior, he was going to have the taller man's full focus now, even if some of it was anger related. 

The glare he received in response was one that said that people just do not take things from him and throw him. John Watson was apparently not people. He was okay with that. He wanted all of Sherlock, and this was clearly the only way that he was going to get him.

"Sometimes I wonder how it is that I fell in love with you," John chuckled, hands running up and down Sherlock's pale thighs.

"Sometimes I wonder how it is that I still put up with you," 

"I am going to make sure that you regret saying that," John said, voice almost a whisper as his breath ghosted over Sherlock's skin, so very close to his member.

Sherlock's breath hitched, but he never actually managed to say anything more, too distracted by everything that John was doing. And, he had barely even gotten started yet.

John spread Sherlock's legs further apart. He pressed kisses along the innermost part of one thigh, following up with small nibbles in the places that he knew were the most sensitive. Fingers traced down over every spot that his mouth had left in his wake, doing everything that he could to made the tall man shudder. 

He managed to move upwards, dancing his tongue around the one thing he was told that he could not touch. He sucked kisses into his skin, sure to leave purple contusions behind. He slid one finger inside Sherlock's tight hole, thrusting it in and out, curling it up to make sure that he hit that one certain spot that made him buck his hips. And, buck his hips he did.

So, John slid in a second finger. He scissored them apart and continued to graze right over Sherlock's prostate, again and again, until Sherlock could no longer hold back his shouts of pleasure. 

Sherlock's hand laced through John's hair, pulling him up to his level. Their lips collided in an intense, passionate kiss, leaving them both gasping for air. Their foreheads were pressed together, eyes locked onto each other as they allowed their breathing to return to normal before resuming the kiss.

When it finally broke, it was as if a new air surrounded them. It reminded them why they were so in love. 

"John..." Sherlock took a deep breath, fingers still in the shorter man's hair.

John moved his fingers inside of Sherlock again, thrusting them hard. Sherlock bucked up again, this time met with John's hips grinding against him. They both moaned, officially throwing the original rule out of the window.

"John, fuck me," Sherlock whispered, licking his lips. "Please,"

John smiled wickedly, taking that as the official command to take the remainder of his clothes off.

***

The wake up call that John did not want came from his daughter crying, the sound piercing his ears almost immediately, despite not being on the same floor. He constantly thanked gods for baby monitors. 

She stopped very suddenly. Soothed by something as soon as he was sitting upright. He listened carefully, a bit taken aback by the soft sound of Sherlock's uniquely incredible voice singing to Rosie. It was lovely. 

When he could no longer hear it, but could hear footsteps traveling down the stairs. Which was about the same time that he realized it was barely after midnight.

He chuckled, trying to remember exactly how all of this happened. The details were fuzzy, but it was okay. 

Together they had survived so many things together, coming to this point. Perhaps, this peacefulness was a sign of good things to come. He hadn't had the best of luck when it came to having a normal life, and this was by no means normal, but it was right. 

He knew what he had to do. 

He knew that the only way to make this almost perfect situation better was to take a chance. 

Sherlock walked around the living area, drifting into the kitchen with Rosie on his hip, probably getting her milk. John had a feeling that his robe would be hanging over his pajamas, his hair a mess. Beautiful in every way. 

He caught Sherlock staring into their bedroom out of the corner of his eye. A smile on his face. 

It might take some convincing, knowing the kind of man that he was in love with, but he was ready. 

He was going to propose.

 


	2. Never Say Never

Sherlock was sitting in the most peculiar way, angled just so he could see into the kitchen. The look on his face as he brought the glass of wine up to his lips almost made John uncomfortable when he turned back to see if he was still being stared at. It wasn't that it was any different than Sherlock's other strange facial expressions, it was just that this one was making him feel like a piece of meat.

Sherlock took another sip of the wine, eyebrows moving so very slightly upwards. His tongue jutted out, the flavors just as much on his lips. He had accepted the glass under the impression that John had intentions of attempting to get him intoxicated, but with every taste he found himself enjoying analyzing the profile of the rich red so he made no effort to protest when the good doctor walked out of the kitchen with the bottle. He was only on his second glass, certainly that wasn't going to impact him all that much.

John turned around again, running his hands through his silver hair almost nervously. He looked up at Sherlock, noticing that nothing much had changed.

However, there was something that caught his eye this time, made him cock his head to the side involuntarily. Sherlock had been planning on that. 

"How...how long have you been wearing those?" 

"Oh, these?" Sherlock asked, grabbing the fabric of the threadbare dark blue plaid fleece pajama pants. "I have had them on since approximately five after ten this morning."

"Those are mine,"

"I am aware,"

"Can I ask why?"

"Perhaps, I find wearing your clothes comforting while you are away,"

John furrowed his brow. "That could not be further from the truth, why are you really wearing those?"

Sherlock sat down the glass of wine and stood up. The waistband of the pants were barely sitting on his hips, exposing the sinfully pale skin to an already very aroused John. He scaled the small space between them with his long legs, grabbing the smaller man and pulling him into a rough, lusty kiss. 

When they separated, John was breathless, lost in the blues and greens that made up Sherlock's gorgeous eyes. 

The corners of Sherlock's mouth were turned up just enough to be considered a smile, at least by his standard. "Is the reasoning clear, yet? Or do I need to continue explaining myself further?"

"I might need a little bit more," John said, able to breathe mostly normal again. "Just a little,"

Their lips met again, intensifying immediately. John's arms wrapped around Sherlock's waist, fingers making sweet contact with the bare skin he wanted so much.

"Yeah, that is a great reason, maybe you should be wearing those more often,"

"Actually, John, these were the first things that I grabbed off of our bedroom floor when Mrs. Hudson came upstairs unexpectedly. I did have my robe, but I did not see good enough cause to scar her further, she had seen more than necessary when she walked in on us mid..."

John put a hand up. "I remember, I remember..."

"Something is burning,"

John sighed, not catching on right away to what he had just been told. 

"John, you were cooking, correct?"

"Yeah,"

"Something is burning,"

John's eyes grew wide and he quickly turned back to the kitchen. He pulled the pan out of the oven, saving the biscuits just in the nick of time. Ruin them and the entire presentation that he had been working on would have collapsed. And, then he would have had to come up with something different. It had already been way longer than he had planned, always worrying that Sherlock might find out what was going on. 

"Everything is fine, it was not burning,"

"It was close,"

"Sherlock," John sighed. "Stop paying attention to what I am doing and go back to drinking your wine,"

"I am always paying attention to what you are doing, you should know that,"

"Pretend that you are not aware of anything that is going on in the kitchen,"

"But I am, I know exactly what you are doing and why you are doing it,"

John shook his head. "Okay, fine, we will do it like this then,"

Sherlock crossed his arms, almost defensively, despite not needing to be. He did not know the full extent of what John was doing. He was aware of the baking, but in reality he did not completely know why. It had crossed his mind, the real reasoning, but he had pushed it aside, thinking that John would do something much more predictable.

John got down on one knee. He took the ring out of his pocket, presenting it to his beloved with as much pride as possible. He wanted nothing more than to marry the man in front of him, and this was the first step, now all he needed was to hear a simple yes. He wasn't going to get anything simple such as that, because this was Sherlock that he was dealing with, but a positive response was key. 

Sherlock covered his mouth to hide the surprise. John's actions took him by surprise. This was not how it was supposed to happen. He didn't see it coming because he had overlooked everything. Now, he was standing there speechless, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

"Yes," The word came out of his partially uncovered mouth before John could even ask the question. 

John was smiling, even though his proposal had changed completely. The good news was that he didn't have to worry what the answer was going to be anymore. Sherlock Holmes was his fiance. They would eventually be married. It was beautiful in it's complicated little way.

Sherlock ran his hands over his face, trying to process what he had just done. He did not regret his answer, he loved John, he just was not entirely sure why the man actually wanted to marry him. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asked, sounding more unsure than he ever had in his entire life.

"You said yes before I even proposed,"

"You want to marry me?"

"Sherlock, I was going to propose. Are you sure that you want to marry me? You did say yes, but you sound a little unclear at the moment."

Sherlock held out his left hand. "I want that more than anything I have ever wanted in my life, it just feels very unusual...these emotions. I love you, John Watson, so very, very much."

John slid the ring on Sherlock's finger. "You should send a photo of this to the woman, make sure she knows that you are officially mine,"

Sherlock was running his hands over his face again. 

"You can run your hands over your face all that you want, it won't change things,"

"You say that, but give me absolutely no reason to believe you. Things change all the time, with or without intervention...and it is irrelevant for me to send her..."

"Shut up, shut your mouth and kiss me,"

He put his hand up. "I do not understand how I can do both at the same time,"

John pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Oh dear god..."

There was a knock at the door. It was going to be Molly to pick up Rosie so that John could show off his talents. Of course, the main part of the evening had already happened. 

"Come in," Sherlock called, paying more attention to the way that his hand looked with the ring on it than Molly when she walked into the flat. 

Molly walked over to the two men, glancing down at the ring. "Did I miss something?"

John shook his head. "No, but someone did," He chuckled, realizing what he had just gotten himself into. If he were more like Sherlock, he might have been analyzing the statistical likelihood of his new fiance becoming a terrifying force of nature as the wedding planning began.

"John and I are going to get married, which means that I am going to be in need of a maid of honour," Sherlock told his dear friend, turning towards her. "Will you be mine?"

 


End file.
